It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?

Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil

O, call back yesterday, bid time return

Men at some time are masters of their fates.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.

A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.